


Slip and Fall (If I Take One More Step)

by bboiseux



Series: Slip and Fall If I Take One More Step [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol-fueled forgetfulness, Drunkenness, F/F, First Dates, Heavy Drinking, Homelessness (implied), Homophobic Language, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Vomiting, drunken hookups, less meet cute and more meet awkward, tiny bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bboiseux/pseuds/bboiseux
Summary: Last night was dancing, sweaty touches, and stolen kisses.  It all seemed so perfect to Beau--a bright spot in what has been a shitty few weeks, months, years.  But relationships are built on more than alcohol-fueled hookups.  Keyleth doesn't remember last night and Beau has to figure out if there's anything between them worth pursuing.  A series of coincidences may make up her mind for her.  Missed chances, poor choices, and first dates.This is a direct follow up toThe Girls They Pull My Hair, which functions as a prologue to this.Title from "Wild West" by Lissie.





	1. Chapter 1

“How long do you wait before you call?  I asked last night and Molly said, ‘Why would you call?’ and Yasha said, ‘A week or two.’ But I sort of want to call right now.”  She checked the fuzzy picture of Keyleth on her phone for the sixth time this morning.  “I mean, not because it’s that important, but, you know, I don’t want to be rude.”

Beau and Jester were eating cereal, crowded around the kitchenette table.  Fjord was already rinsing out his bowl at the cracked porcelain sink.  He smacked the tap closed and turned around, towel working at the bowl.  “I’d say give it a couple days.  You don’t want to seem too desperate, but you also don’t want them to forget about you.”  Fjord saw Beau’s shoulders droop and added.  “Not that they’d forget you, Beau.”

“No, that’s too long,” Jester said mid-chew.  She dropped her spoon into her bowl of Lucky Charms.  “The sooner, the better.  If you had asked me last night, I would have said call her like one minute after she walked away because it would be super romantic.  But it is morning, so . . . wait until this afternoon so she doesn’t have a hangover!  You will make her so happy because you care so much.”

“Oh shit, yeah, Jester, that’s a great idea.”  Beau nodded enthusiastically and glanced at her phone again.  “Yeah, perfect.”

Beau spent the day trawling job sites and coaxing her clothes through the half-broken washer in the basement.  Neither had been a complete failure, but she wasn’t very hopeful either.  Now it was late afternoon, the clothes were crumpled on the floor next to the beat-up corduroy couch she currently called a bed, and the list of numbers to call about jobs was crumbled on the coffee table.  Beau was curled in the sun-warmed corner of the couch staring at the blurry, off-center photo of Keyleth on her phone.

Fjord was down at the docks moving boxes and Jester wasn’t due back from art class for another hour.  And there was no way Keyleth still had a hangover.  Beau’s finger hovered over the call button.  But Keyleth might be at work or class or in the middle of something else.  Beau blanked the screen and dropped the phone on her chest, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“Ah, fuck it.”

She grabbed the phone and mashed her thumb on the text button.

**_BEAU:_** _Hey babe_  
**_BEAU:_** _This is Beau_

Beau dropped the phone and waited.  That should be enough, right?  Totally casual tone.  Dripping with confidence.  She nodded to her thoughts and drummed her fingers on the phone.

After a minute, she tossed the phone onto the coffee table and started folding clothes.

A little after that, she checked to see if there were any new job results.

A little after that, she picked up her phone, just to check the weather.  It was going to be cold.

A little after that, she needed to check the time, just to make sure the oven clock was right.

A little after that, the phone vibrated and Beau snatched it up.

**_KEY-KEY:_** _hi beau!_  
**_KEY-KEY:_** _sorry where did we meet?!!!_

Beau let out the loudest, longest “fuck!” of her life.  Which coincided perfectly with the jingle of keys and the rattle of the door knob as Jester came home early.

“Beau, you are going to scare away the neighbors and then who are we going to bum beers off of?”  She set her portfolio and supply case down next to the door.  “Is the search really that bad?”

Beau groaned and collapsed on the couch.  “Who the fuck cares about jobs?”  She thrust out her phone and Jester leaned in for a closer look.

She scrunched up her face.  “Oh.”  She nodded affirmatively.  “Yeah, that sucks.”

Beau dropped the phone to the floor. “It just seemed so perfect, you know?  Everything has been so shit and then there she was and we moved so perfectly together and I thought ‘Yeah. Take this connection.  Get this one ray of light in your life.’”  She buried her face in the couch with a roar of “Fuck!”

Jester sat down next to her with a bounce and patted Beau on the back.  “She answered you back.  That is good.  I say text her back and see if you can get a date!”

Beau groaned, muffled into the couch.  “This is such bullshit.”

Jester picked up the phone from the floor and looked at the message again.  “She seems nice.  Did you notice the exclamation point?”  She waved the phone in front of Beau’s face, her finger emphasizing the exclamation point.  “That means she’s excited!”

Beau’s answer was a monotone.  “That means she’s confused.  It was just a drunk hookup.”  She rolled on her back and rested her legs on Jester’s lap.  “Which is cool.  I love drunk hookups.  They’re fucking awesome.” She slumped down again.

Jester waited and, after Beau failed to continue, said, “So . . . what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t even know why I texted her.”

“Maybe you just really like her?”

“That would be fucking stupid.”

Jester laughed.  “Love is stupid!”

Beau recoiled.  “Woah woah woah.  Drunk hookup, not love.”  She pointed aggressively at Jester.  “Drunk.  Hookup.”

“Oh-kay,” sang Jester, “I am just saying that I do not bother getting the number of a drunk hookup.”

Beau took that in for a moment.  “Shit.”

“You should buy her flowers.  Girls love flowers.”  Jester jumped on her phone and started typing.

“No. No. No.  I don’t do flowers.  I do, like, mosh pits and Netflix and chill, and bar fights and, like, that’s it.”

“The ecology kids at school worked at this one place that I think is nearby . . . yeah, here we are.  It’s right up the street.”  Jester held out her phone to Beau.  “You can walk there in like fifteen minutes.”

“Fuck, Jester . . .”  Beau trailed off, then bounced back.  “Wait, I can’t.  I don’t have any money.”

“I have fifteen dollars and I need five of it for the bus, so you can have ten.  That should buy something.”  Jester was already pressing the money into Beau’s hand.

“I’m not going to take your money.  You and Fjord are already letting me crash here and—”

Jester hugged Beau around her legs, a wide grin spreading on her face.  “We are friends and we support you.  And I want to support you with this too.  Go!”

Beau looked at the crumpled wad of bills in her hand and sighed.  “Yeah, alright.  But I’m paying you back.  For everything.”  She gave Jester a quick squeeze and stood up.  “So that’s just like ten blocks, right?”  She grabbed some things and left.

Jester went to the kitchenette and mixed up a steaming mug of hot chocolate and then settled onto the couch.  With a deep breath of the steam, Jester smiled and turned on the Nintendo and settled in for some solid game time.  After about ten minutes, she paused the game and said, to no one in particular, “Does she even know where to send the flowers?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before, it was only a chance meeting. Now, Keyleth and Beau are brought together by another coincidence. But under different circumstances, can Beau even see what she saw before in the redheaded stranger?

Most of the buildings on this block were crumbling—steps reduced to a pile of crushed concrete, roofs collapsed, and windows missing.  Some of the windows were boarded up, others broken, a few melted away in fires from years past.  Beau had passed at least five cars that looked abandoned and grass was struggling through a spider’s web of cracks in the street.  Even the sidewalk was a maze of uneven pavement and gnarled growth.

But this building, out of all of them, was intact—old brick, baked in soot from the city’s factory days.  An advertisement for Baxter’s Hygienic Soap was plastered up one side, towering up the six or so stories, but fading across the years.  The windows were old, cracked in some places, but cared for and, as she walked up, Beau could make out new panes of glass.  The door was new and fitted with an expensive lock.  The frosted windows on the first floor were covered in metal bars.  The only hint that this was a welcoming place was a sign above the door.  It was hand carved wood that showed signs of once being equally hand painted but was now only weather-beaten.  It read “Co-op.”  Underneath was written “Seasonal Vegetables and Flowers.”  The door itself had a plastic sign—probably bought at an office supply store—that said “Office” in blocky letters.

Beau opened the door and walked inside.

Inside was lit by bright fluorescent bulbs, in long fixtures on the ceiling.  They gave the room a sickly yellow look.  It was a small room, old plaster walls, lined with shelves that were mostly empty.  It was primarily occupied by a wooden counter against the far wall.  A bored looking man—Beau thought dude-bro—was staring up at her from that counter, shoulders still hunched over a textbook.

“Um, hey,” he said, “Can I, uh, help you?”  Beau could feel his eyes giving her a critical once over.

“Yeah.”  She walked over to the counter and stood with her arms crossed.  “I want to buy some flowers.”

The dude-bro stared at her blankly for a second.  “I, uh, I don’t think . . . .”  His eyes looked around the room and he twisted behind him as if searching for something.  “I don’t think we sell that.”

Beau gestured towards the window.  “Dude, your sign says flowers on it.  Literally, flowers.”

“Yeah, but, uh . . .”  He turned towards a door in the back wall.  “Hey, boss!”

After a moment, a woman’s voice, muffled, like it was underground, shouted back, “Busy!  If you need something come here.”

The dude-bro looked back at Beau.  “Um, we don’t—” Then he thought better of it and disappeared through the doorway.  A moment later, he reappeared with a woman behind him.

Her red hair was up in a bun, there wasn’t an ounce of makeup on her face, and her clothes and arms were covered in what Beau hoped was dirt.  But it was, beyond a doubt, Keyleth.

She smiled cautiously at Beau, a small closed mouth smile, and Beau couldn’t help but flash to the wide grinning face Keyleth had worn at the club last night.  That smile had lit up the dark room.  This smile was surface, drained by the flickering yellow lights.

“Hi,” said Keyleth, “Sorry for the mess.”  Here she waved her arms around. “I’m dealing with our compost piles.  Dirk tells me you’re looking for flowers?”

The words hung in the air for a moment and then Beau stuttered out, “Oh, yeah, yeah.  I wanted to have some flowers delivered to someone . . .”  She drifted off for a moment and then blinked back to reality.  “But I just realized I don’t even know where they live.”

“We have some pansies in our greenhouse.  We don’t do much with flowers and it’s not really the season, but, if you’d like, I could grab you a small bouquet.”

“Uh, no.  I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s really no bother.  I promise.”

Keyleth renewed that same small smile and Beau went hot.  A lump of anger burned in her lungs.  She breathed around it and said, “No, I’ve done enough.”  She turned quickly and walked out of the co-op.

Ten minutes later, Beau burst through the door of the apartment, out of breath.  She stumbled towards the bedrooms and then stopped when she realized she had no place to go but the couch, which was occupied by Jester.  She walked over and slumped down on the couch, her face all scowl.

Jester paused the game she was playing and looked up from the couch.  “Soooo . . . not great?”

Beau turned and locked eyes with Jester.  “I almost fucked a florist.”

Jester dropped the controller and clapped her hands.  “My goodness, Beau, you are having the best time recently!”  She gave Beau a critical once over and said, “So why do you not look happy?”

“The florist was the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The girl from last night.”

Jester’s face flashed into a smile before twisting into a frown.  “I’m confused.  Why does this look like a bad thing?”

Beau groaned.  “I hate this.  This is so fucking stupid.”  Her eyes ran over the crumpled job list on the table, pushed to the side to make room for Jester’s cluster of mugs and game cases; the pile of unfolded clothes, stamped down on the floor; and the second-hand army-green duffle bag in the corner that currently housed all her worldly possessions.  “I mean, why would I want to be with someone like that?”

“What happened?” Jester’s voice had gone soft like a warm blanket, but still prodded with that omnipresent tinge of curiosity.

“Nothing!  Nothing fucking happened!”  Beau took a long breath and let it run through her body.  When she spoke again it was her normal gravelly deadpan.

Beau told Jester about the Co-op and the dude-bro at the counter and Keyleth.  “I could tell she was pitying me.  Like, I know that ‘pat-pat on the head’ smile.  I get enough of that.  Shit, she’s probably one of those straight girls who gets drunk and thinks it would be fun to make out with another girl.  I don’t need that.”

“That’s . . . a lot of really interesting ideas, Beau.”  Jester paused.  “But maybe you are making too many assumptions?  I mean you seemed really stuck on her this morning and maybe that’s worth giving her the benefit of the doubt?”

Beau dropped a crumpled wade of money into Jester’s lap and pulled out her phone.  “Nah, that was way too much caring for me.  I’ve got to keep my head in the game if I’m going to get off this couch.”

She pressed the screen of the phone.  “There.  Number deleted.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things that look over are just waiting to get started.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but Keyleth had dressed up anyway—a simple black dress with a few bangles and necklaces.  She’d even put her hair up.  Vex had looked her over when she and Percy had picked her up (Keyleth’s glammed up head, bare legs, and stilettoed feet, sticking out from a puffy jacket) and commented on the fact that Keyleth was going out “Twice in one month!  You’re getting positively extravagant, darling!”  It had been a playful dig and Keyleth had smiled softly at it.  Besides, Vex had given her a wink and a Vex wink always made Keyleth flush.  She had been glad for the darkness of the car.

But now she was two glasses of wine into dinner and her gestures and smile had grown broader.  She’d let her mind drift from the day-to-day responsibilities and from the weight of the past and was focused on the now.  And the now involved needling Percy for the fact that he had a stick up his ass.

“You can’t honestly tell me that you think those redevelopment plans will be good for the city.”  She was practically giggling from the ridiculousness of it.

Percy was in the middle of a long sigh.  He’d even taken off his glasses and was cleaning them as he thought.  Vex flashed a cocked smile in his direction.  She liked seeing him squirm.

“You cannot deny that the city needs capital investment—”

“What it needs is people investment.”  Keyleth swept her arms wide and a waiter just narrowly dodged them.  “You don’t fix problems by handing money to the people who already have it and telling them to solve it.  You give it to the people who need it.”

“The people who don’t know how to handle the money they already have.”

“Oh bullshit.  How does someone who never had money learn to manage it?  You teach them.  Vex is helping me put some courses together—”

“And in the meantime, that entire stretch of city is a crumbling junkheap.  I’m not going to applaud the leaders who let it get there in the first place, but I’m also not going to look down on them for finally doing something.  This is about legacy—”

Now Vex was laughing.  “It’s not your legacy, darling.”

Percy responded with another long sigh.  Which was broken by an exclamation from Keyleth.

“Oh my god.  Percy, do you remember that girl I told you about?  A couple weeks ago?  Who came in to order flowers?”

Percy was trying to follow the jumped chain of conversation.  “The one you thought might be homeless?”

“Well, I must have been wrong because she is right over there dressed to the nines.”

Percy followed Keyleth’s gaze, searching the room for a moment before settling on a woman at the bar—hair buzzed at the sides, the rest pulled up into a top knot.  The knot was tied with a pink bow and she was wearing an off the shoulder floral gown that was far too dressy for the location.  Percy stared for a full thirty seconds before turning back.  “Keyleth, are you sure that’s the girl?”

Keyleth examined Percy’s face.  “Almost ninety-nine percent.  Why?”

“Remember that good time you had at the club a couple weeks ago?”

 

The pre-gaming had been a mistake because Beau was on her way to wasted already and she was only on her second beer.  Coming here had also been a mistake, which Beau was very vocally telling Jester—because it was her fault—because at least at a shitty college bar there would have been assholes to pick fights with.  Here, everyone was just sitting at tables talking.  Jester was making the point back that “if she had known Beau was going to start off shitfaced she wouldn’t have brought her at all” and now she was pouting because this was supposed to be a good time for both of them and Beau had even let her dress her up in a cute dress and do her hair and makeup and now they might as well leave.  So Beau was extra jumpy when there was a tap on her shoulder and an “Excuse me, Beau?” and it was Keyleth.

“Holy fucking shitballs!”  Beau tried to jump back on the stool, but just knocked into Jester, who reached around Beau, hand extended.

“Hello, I am Jester!  Who are you?”

Keyleth took the extended hand and shook it gently.  “Hi, Jester.  I’m Keyleth.”

“Oh, so you are Keyleth.”  Jester’s elbow dug into Beau’s side.  She could almost hear Jester’s eyebrows waggling.  “It is very nice to meet you, Keyleth.  Unfortunately, I have to pee, so I am going to do that now.  Okay, bye.”  And, like that, Jester vanished into the restaurant.

Beau’s eyes wandered over Keyleth, taking in the dress, the hair, the impossibly long legs balanced on hilariously high heels.  Even in her drunken haze, or maybe because of it, Beau couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d like to do with those legs.

Keyleth slipped onto the stool next to Beau.  “I’m—uh, I’m here with some friends and, well, my one friend, Percy—I was telling him about you coming into the shop—and he looked at you and—” She fluttered her hand at the sentence.  “Well, I wanted to come over.”

“I didn’t know you owned the shop!”  It was out before Beau knew she was even thinking it.  Keyleth reacted with a soft smile, her eyes staring at the bar, intently not making eye contact with Beau.

“I hoped that was—”  She stopped and looked up.  “I—I don’t know if you’re still interested.  You didn’t answer my text, so I sort of thought—but knowing it was you in the shop, well.”  Keyleth swallowed and launched a volley of words in quick succession.  “It took me a long time to trust myself.  But then some things happened and, well, I do now.  And—what I’m trying to say is—If I thought there was something there enough to give you my number, I’d like to try again.”  She gasped for breath and watched Beau’s face.

“Whoa.”  Beau took a long draw on her beer and then slammed it on the bar and stood up.  “I think—“ She swayed a moment and then caught herself.  “I think that sounds pretty dope.”  She grabbed the bar next to Keyleth and leaned in, filling the space between them, sweeping her hair back in what she probably thought was a slick move. “I remember that you don’t like bathrooms, but we could, like, go back to your place.”

Keyleth rubbed her eyes and frowned.  “Shit.  You’re totally wasted.”

“Naw, man.  I can handle my shit.”

Keyleth pivoted to the side, away from the lean of Beau’s body, and stood up.  Beau stumbled back and looked up at what seemed like an endless tower of Keyleth.

Keyleth said, “I’m sorry.  This was—this was way too impulsive.”  She squeezed Beau’s shoulder.  “I’ve got your number.  I’ll text you this time.”

And she walked away . . . right into Jester.

“Hello mystery Keyleth.  Do you remember?  I am Jester.”

“Oh.  Oh! Hello again, Jester.   I—I thought maybe I should do this another time.”

Jester peered around Keyleth to watch Beau trying to slip onto the stool three times before finding her seat.  “Yes, that is probably for the best.  But do you like her?”

Keyleth took a step back and glanced back.  She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  My friend says I seemed to and—I don’t know.”

Jester nodded.  “She really is an awesome person.  I can recommend her one hundred percent!”

Keyleth smiled.  “Good to know.”

“No, really.”

“I believe you.  I’m going to text her, okay?”

“Oh-kay!  It was nice meeting you!”  Jester bounced over to Beau, her blue curls bobbing on top of her head.

Keyleth watched for a moment and then headed back to her table.

 

The next morning, Beau didn’t remember a thing.  Then her phone vibrated.

 ** _UNKNOWN #:_** _hi beau!!!_  
**_UNKNOWN #:_** _this is keyleth!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting ready is just getting dressed. Sometimes its quite a bit more. Beau and Keyleth each get ready for their first date with some help from their friends.

“Fjord.  Fjord!”  The shouting was coming closer very quickly.  His jeans half-way off, Fjord tried to simultaneously pull the pants back on and kick them off at the same time and promptly fell onto his bed as the door slammed open.

Beau marched in.  “Fjord.  Do you have a suit?”

Fjord sat up, jeans around his ankles.  “Ah, Beau, do you mind, I’m a little indisposed at the moment.”

Beau glanced over and headed for his closet.  “Yeah, sure, whatever, you’ve got a dick.  I don’t mind.  You do you.  Do you have a suit?”

Fjord snapped and zipped.  “Sure, I’ve got a suit.  Why?”  He walked over to where Beau was rummaging through his clothes and tapped her on the shoulder.  “Do you mind?”

As Beau spun around, Jester glided into the room holding two floral dresses in front of her.  “You would look amazing in these two!  Come on, let’s try them on.  And then I can work on your hair and makeup!”

Beau nodded.  “Oh, yeah.  That’s great.  But Fjord’s letting me use his suit.  Right, Fjord?”  Hidden behind his shoulders, Beau gave Fjord a pleading look.

“Ah, well—” Fjord rumpled his hair and moved aside.  “I mean, I’d like to Beau, but,” and here he looked down at her, “I think there’s a bit of a size issue.”

Beau turned back to the closet.  “Pretty sure we can fix that with some whatever-the-hell-that’s-called.  Sewing?  Right?”  She turned back to Jester and stuck out a foot, waving it in her direction.  “You just sew up the bottom of the legs.”  She glanced back and forth between Fjord and Jester desperately.

“I don’t think clothes work that way,” said Jester.  “You are very powerful, but very tiny, and Fjord is not as powerful, but dominates the room through raw physicality and charisma.”

Beau deadpanned. “Wow, Jester.  That was, like, really obvious.”  She gave Fjord a look over her shoulder and jabbed a thumb at Jester.  “You getting this?”

“That you need a suit and that mine isn’t going to fit?  Yeah, I got that.”

“No, that Jester—”  Beau shook her head.  “You know what?  Never mind.  Yeah, I need a suit.  And Jester, I’m sorry, but I can’t stand to put a dress on again.”

Jester pouted.  “But you would look super cute!”  She waggled the dresses behind Beau.  “Keyleth asked you out when you were in a dress.”

“Yeah, but it’s not true to myself, right?  And if a dress really made a difference, then this isn’t going to fucking work.”  She wheeled back to Fjord.  “Seriously, do you have a suit?”

Fjord considered for a moment.  “I don’t have a suit that’s going to fit you.  But, if you’ve got time . . .”

A half-hour later, they were stepping off the bus at the University.  Jester had decided to trail along because “she could practice her sketching on the actors!”  Beau strongly suspected there was only one actor she was going to sketch, but she let it be.

“Alright,” said Fjord as they walked to the theater, “I have to run to class, but we’ll swing by the wardrobe department.  Molly’s helping out with the clothes for the latest production and—”

“Whoa,” said Beau, stopping the group dead, “You didn’t mention anything about Molly.  There’s no way I’m telling him about this.”

Fjord fixed her with a faux no-nonsense gaze.  “Well, I hope you’re not too firm on that—cause if Molly isn’t there, you’re not grabbing any clothes.”

Beau fixed him with equal force and then broke with a “Shit!”

As they started walking again, she said pointedly, “Fine.  But this is for a job interview, okay?”

“Hey, whatever you want.”

The theater building was built in the fifties or sixties and was all exposed concrete, supports, glass, and squareness.  It would have stood out as exceptionally ugly if every other building on the campus didn’t look exactly the same.  Fjord guided the group through the lobby, through the doors of the theater itself and the black room, and into the labyrinth of changing rooms, storage, and offices back stage.  Finally, he rapped on the doorframe of a cluttered room that was crammed with racks of clothes.  Molly was sitting on a stool, hunched over a dress working with a needle and thread.

Fjord strolled in.  “Hey, Moll.  Beau here needs some clothes for a job interview.  I though we might be able to help her out.”

Beau stood, arms crossed, in the doorway, as Jester waved an enthusiastic “hi!”

Molly tucked the needle into the dress and stood up, carefully hanging the dress over a rack.  “Job interview, eh?”  His smile was all teeth.  “What kind of job?”

Beau’s eyes flicked to Fjord for a moment and then back to Molly.  She shrugged casually.  “Oh, you know, just some office minion thing.”

Fjord patted Beau on the shoulder. “Well, thanks, Moll, I’ve got to run.  Good luck, Beau.”  And Fjord was out the door.

Jester gave a quick “Me too!  Love you both!” and rushed after Fjord.

Beau and Molly just stared at each other for a few seconds, until Molly broke the silence with “Well, let’s see what we’ve got” and started sorting through the racks. “Any specific dress code you need to follow?”

Beau took a step into the room.  “Um, I guess, suit and tie?”

Molly considered her carefully over his shoulder.  “How formal exactly?”

Beau felt the energy bubble up, the image of Keyleth in her mind, but she tamped it down.  “Like, super formal.  But not a tux.  Suit and tie.”

“Any color in particular for the jacket and pants?”

“Um, do they come in any colors other than black?”

Molly rolled his eyes.  “You’re in the theater department.  Not only can I get you black, brown, gray and blue,” he said, ticking off his fingers, “I can get you pink, purple, yellow, and probably a half-dozen other colors.”  He turned and look her up and down.  “Although I suppose we should probably just narrow the stock down by size.  When’s the interview?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight!?”

“I mean, tomorrow . . . but, like, early in the morning.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

 

Keyleth’s apartment was directly above the co-op offices and a few stories below the rooftop greenhouse.  It was an old building—with crumbling plaster to prove it.  Keyleth had repaired the walls so many times that she had lost track of what was original and what was patch.  Her apartment had been built a long time ago and at the time they had used wardrobes instead of closets.  When someone had decided to add closets back in the 1940s, they had built them in however they could.  In short, the closet in Keyleth’s bedroom ran the entire length of one wall—almost a full ten feet—but there was only a small door at one end.  Overtime, Keyleth had taken to storing her clothing like the fossil record: the deeper you went, the further into the past.

Her day-to-day clothes were kept in a dresser on the other side of the room—chipped edges, discolored wood, and drawers with missing knobs filled up with t-shirts and jeans and other things.  The front of the closet was cute dresses and clubbing clothes up high with a mixture of muddy boots, high heels, and sneakers down low.  In her search for the perfect outfit for tonight, she’d already exhausted her current standbys and was starting to push deeper into the unlit depths of the closet.  A pile of tossed away options littered the floor.

Currently, she was just past the doorway, trying to shift an entire rack of clothes at once, the clothes cool and heavy against her body, the air of the closet back here stale like a tomb.   She clutched her phone in one hand, the blue glow eaten up by the shadows, waiting.

“Vex?  Vex?  Oh thank god.”  Vex’s face appeared, muddy in pixels before springing into a bright clarity on the screen.  Keyleth almost hugged the image to her face.  “I need your help.”

Vex smiled warmly and adjusted her glasses.  Her voice shivered with digitization, but the honeyed tone still dripped through.  “What is it, dear?”  She leaned closer to the screen.  “And _where_ are you?  It looks . . . cramped.”

Keyleth backed out into the light of the room and held the phone at arm’s length.  “I was in the closet looking for an outfit.  I want to get it perfect.  Do you have time to help?  Please tell me you’ll help.”

“Of course, darling.  Tell me what you need.”

Keyleth launched into a rambling explanation, holding up examples of her earlier attempts (bangy pants and a t-shirt here, a slinky red dress with chunky bangles there), and, after a few comments from Vex, dove back into the closet for more options.  She emerged with new options again and again, each time finding fault and merely adding to the pile on the floor.  Finally, as Keyleth dragged another armful of hangers out of the closet and threw them on the bed, Vex interrupted.  “Keyleth, darling?  Question.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you putting” Vex waved her hand at the screen.  “All of this into your date?”

Keyleth sat down.  “I want this to be . . . right.”

“Right is all fine and good, dear, but this is a bit much.

The currents pulsing through Keyleth—driving her forward in a stream of activity—seemed to drain away.  “I just—” She let out a long breath and frowned.  “It’s been a long time and I haven’t felt any connection and, well, I don’t know if I feel it, but it’s the closest I’ve gotten, and—”

“It’s okay, Keyleth dear.  You’re allowed to want to date.  Truly.”

Vex was going to continue on about the clothes, about being yourself, about not worrying, but Keyleth cut in.

“Am I?”

Vex felt cut, a wound that she didn’t know was still there, breaking open just a little.  But she swallowed the hurt in the face of the pain on Keyleth’s face.  She had to fight off the urge to reach through the screen and pull Keyleth close.  “Of course, darling.  And that’s coming from me.  If I say it’s okay you have to accept it.”  Vex winked.  “So let’s pick out some clothes that will knock this girl on her back.”

Keyleth smiled, sad and slow, and picked herself up.  “I think I’ll start with making her smile.”

“Well, to each their own, darling.”

Keyleth looked down at the mountains of clothes—some she had forgotten she owned, some she hadn’t worn for years.  She knelt down and picked up a white sweatshirt perched on top of the pile.  It was a little worn and she had cut the neck out long ago so that it hung off her shoulders, but it was comfortable and made her smile.

She tossed it on the bed and dove into the closet again.  “I think I remember a peasant skirt in here that would go perfect.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The last layers of clothes were heavy and Keyleth had to lean in to push them out of the way.  Apparently, a decade of thrift store shopping had left her with far more clothes than she realized.  She’d last worn the skirt she wanted . . . was it eight years ago?  That might mean quite a ways back.  She crammed between the layers, peering through the dark for a hint of red.  Inching a foot forward to gain traction, she kicked something solid on the floor.  Curious, she knelt down (just below the sky of clothes) and reached out.

It was a cardboard box about two feet around and eight inches high, pressed against one wall, out of sight.  The flaps were tucked neatly to keep it closed, the corners dented and worn.  Keyleth brushed the tips of her fingers across the top, letting them linger in the fine layer of dust, before her balance gave out and she sank to the floor. She remembered when she’d put it there four years before.  She hadn’t put it there to forget (she never forgot), just to . . . move on.  And now, there it was.  She hugged her knees and sat, staring, until suddenly she found herself laughing (high and choked) into the darkness.  She shook her head and wiped the wetness away from her eyes.  “Really, Vax?”

Delicately, she caressed the box and then, with a self-affirming nod, stood up.  Directly in front of her was the skirt she was looking for.

In the distance came Vex’s voice: “Keyleth, darling, have you gotten lost?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Date, Part I: Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the tags. They have been updated to include additional drinking related issues (Heavy Drinking and Vomiting)

“So, what the fuck’s your deal?”

They were in a little restaurant Keyleth knew, all brick walls, recovered wood, warm bread, and idle chatter.  Beau was dressed to the nines in a black suit, tie perfectly knotted, hair slicked to the side, white shirt crisp and starched.  Keyleth was slouchy in her off the shoulder sweatshirt, red skirt, and black leggings.  They had met up on a street corner (Beau offering a solid handshake in greeting; Keyleth giggling as she took the hand) and strolled down to the restaurant.  They’d draped their coats, gloves and hats shoved in the pockets, over the backs of the chairs and looked over the menu, exchanging idle comments and stumbled words (Beau had insulted the wine list and ordered a beer).  Until: “So, what the fuck’s your deal?”

Keyleth blinked twice, her throat catching.  “Wh—what?”

Beau scrunched her brow up.  “Like, at the club you’re this totally elemental bitch with the warpaint that’s on point, but then in your shop you’re like all earthy and reserved and serious.  Like, how are you like that?”

Keyleth looked at the woman across the table.  She was intense and serious and engaged and cursing up a storm . . . and Keyleth laughed.  “Wait.  Do you want to know about me?”

Beau slouched back in her chair, arms crossed.  “Yeah, yeah.  How are you on top of things and totally badass?  I didn’t think that was possible.”

Keyleth went hot—she could feel the creep of red in her cheeks and at the back of her neck.  “Um, that’s really nice of you.  I—I really don’t know how to answer that.  I mean—I’m me.  I—”  Keyleth ducked her head, hiding her eyes.  “You’re only like the second person to call me a badass.”

“Well, whoever that was was totally right.  I can tell.”

“Thank you.”  It was a squeak.

Beau seemed to have hit her stride.  “But, see, I saw you at the club and I didn’t even think you’d be like _established_.  Shit, do you own that shop?”  Beau gave a quick thanks to the waiter as the beers were dropped off.

“Um, yeah, I guess I do.  For a few years now.  I took it over from my dad.”

“Oh.”  It was short, quick and Beau shifted in her seat.  “Well, cool.  Do you go out dancing much?”

“I try to get out once a month.  I don’t get much free time anymore.  Do you?  Go out dancing much, I mean.”

“When I can—yeah—my friends—well, when I can.”

A silence settled over the table.  Beau played with the silverware, picking at the table with a fork, while Keyleth ran her fingers along the condensation on her water glass.  They each pricked their eyes up at each other occasionally, rolling possible conversation topics over in their heads.  Finally, Keyleth jerked out “So is Beau your real name?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“It’s a nice name.  I didn’t know if it was short for anything.”

Beau kept her eyes on the fork making trails in the tablecloth.  “It used to be short for Beauregard, but I changed it.”

“To just Beau?”

“Technically, my last name is Regard.”  She paused waiting for the inevitable laugh.

It didn’t come.  “Why’d you change your name?”

Beau dropped the fork and crossed her arms.  “I didn’t get along with my parents.  Stupidest and best $500 I’ve ever spent.”  She grinned a tight crooked grin.  “What about you?  I guess you get along with your parents.”

“Oh, um, yeah, well—that is—I get along with my dad.  My mom died when I was little.”

“Shit.  Sorry.”

Keyleth smiled (small, a thin crack) and then smiled again (broad and kind).  “It’s really okay.  I remember her a little.  I look a lot like her.  My dad says I think a lot like her too.”  Keyleth shook her head.  “I’m not really very good at small talk, am I?”

Beau’s answer was frantic.  “Oh no, you’re awesome at it.  Well, better than me.  Shit, I already brought up hating my parents.”

Keyleth laughed.  “I brought up a dead mother.  I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say these things on a first date.”

Beau took a swig of her beer.  “Well, what are we supposed to talk about?”

“I think things you like to do and favorite music.  Things like that.”  Keyleth shrugged.

Beau fixed Keyleth with a long look.  “I’m sorry.  That’s like total worthless bullshit.”  She squirmed in her seat, arms crossed.  “Why talk if you’re not going to say serious shit?”  She paused.  “I mean, not you being bullshit, but like the normal thing to do.”

“No, I get it.”

“I have an idea.  Why don’t we only ask real questions?  Like, really get to know each other?”

Keyleth frowned.  “You mean serious questions?”

“Yeah,” said Beau, nodding, “True shit that matters.”

The waiter interrupted then, dropping of their meals.  Keyleth gave an absentminded “thank you” as she chewed on her lower lip.  When he walked away, she looked up.  “Okay, but if you ask a question, you have to answer it too.”

“That’s fair.  You go first.”

Without hesitation, Keyleth said, “How old are you?”

Beau snorted.  “That’s not a very serious question.  Twenty-two.  You?”

“Twenty-eight.”

Beau nodded appreciatively.  “Damn, you are fucking hot.  I would have never known you were that old.”

Keyleth cocked her head to the side with a screwed up frown.  “I’m only twenty-eight.  That’s really not very old.”

Beau waved her fork in the air.  “Old enough.  When you were eighteen, I was twelve.  Alright, my turn.”  She took a bite and thought carefully.  “How many people have you fucked?”

Keyleth choked for a moment.  “That’s really serious really fast.”

Beau chuckled. “As you can tell, I’m really fucking serious.”  She impaled a piece of chicken on her fork.

Keyleth sighed.  “Alright.  Um.  One.”

If Beau had a look other than deadpan, her jaw would have dropped open.  “No way.  So you’re practically a virgin.  Damn.  I mean, dope as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but damn.”  Beau thought for a moment.  “Okay, so I have to ask—”

“No.  You need to answer the same question.”

Beau gave Keyleth a cocky nod and a cockeyed smile.  “Awesome.  You don’t take any shit.”  She weighed the answer.  “If we only include actual fucking and not just messing around . . . then . . . twenty?  Roughly.”

“Wow,” whispered Keyleth.

Beau shrugged.  “It’s amazing how many girls you can hook up with when you’re both drunk.”

“So not a serious thing?”

“Nah.  Didn’t see most of them again.  But it was a fucking fun time.”  Beau pointed her fork at Keyleth.  “Okay, important question: guys, girls, or both?” 

Keyleth stopped in mid-chew, swallowed, and said, “Um, what do you mean?”

“Who do you like?  Like I’m all about girls.  Lots of shapes and sizes . . .” She grinned.  “. . . but girls only.  So, like, was that one a guy or a girl?”

“Uh, well . . .” Keyleth flushed a bright red.  “That one was a guy and now I’m here with you, so I guess, both, maybe?”

“Maybe?”  Beau withdrew a little, watching every movement from Keyleth.  “You’re not one of those girls who thinks it’s fun to ‘experiment,’ are you?”  She tried to do air quotes, but the knife and fork in her hands got in the way.

Keyleth flushed even redder, but it wasn’t from embarrassment this time.  She felt a twinge of righteousness that she hadn’t felt in a long time.  “I don’t experiment with people.  I’m not trying on anything or playing around.  I am here because I wanted to get to know you, singular.  That’s it.”

“Yeah,” said Beau, as she nodded, “Yeah, I get you.”

“Good.”  And Keyleth jammed her fork into her salad.  “Why do you hate your parents?”

“Eh, that’s not a question you have to answer.”

“Neither was your last question.  You haven’t exactly hidden that you’re all about girls.  I was the only one under the spotlight then.”  Her volume went up and a few nearby tables glanced in her direction.  Keyleth finished off her beer and looked around to order another.

Beau wasn’t even pretending to eat now.  Her arms were crossed and rigid.  “Yeah, you know what, that’s fine.  I hate my parents for a lot of reasons, but the primary one is that it’s hard to like people who call you a faggot.  That enough?”

Keyleth’s face drained of color.  “Sorry.”

Beau took a deep breath and then waved it all away.  “It’s all good.  I mean, they didn’t even use the right slur.  At least if they’d called me a dyke I could have laughed in their face and said something clever.”  She laughed and then lapsed into silence, poking at her food.  Finally, she said, “I didn’t know what it was like to be verbally spit at until then.”

That sat there in silence for a long moment, each focused more on their plates than each other.  Then Keyleth said, “They sound like shitheads.”

“They are,” said Beau, “But, you know, there are a lot of shitheads out there.”

Keyleth nodded along and then raised her eyes across the table.  “Maybe there’s a reason people talk about stupid shit on first dates.”

“Yeah, maybe there is.”

They went back to picking at their plates.  When the waiter came by and they each ordered another beer.  While they were waited for them to arrive, Keyleth asked, “So, what’s your favorite color?”

Beau chuckled.  The answer was blue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Date, Part II: Drinking

When Beau had suggested grabbing a few more drinks at a bar, she hadn’t had any ulterior motive.  Yes, Keyleth had been drunk the first time they’d hooked up, but she really just wanted to talk a little bit longer.  So, they’d headed up the street, ordered beers, and started talking.

Beau had lost count of the beers after seven.

But Keyleth had ordered them water and forced her to drink some, so it wasn’t so bad, although the world was a bit wobbly.  She looked over at Keyleth.  She was talking non-stop and had been since they’d hit beer number four.  In fact, she had also been getting steadily louder since then too.  Oh and now she was standing up to address the bar.  There was a little sense in the back of Beau’s head that told her she should stop Keyleth, distract her, turn her around, but there was the other part of her (the troublemaker) that really liked where Keyleth was going with this.

“Fuck the government,” shouted Keyleth, beer bottle held high over her head.  She scanned the room and seemed to zero in on a mousy woman at a table nearby, gesturing wildly towards her.  “Do you have any idea how little they care about you?  Have you been over to the south side recently?”  She seemed to be winding up for an oral manifesto.

Beau was giving a supporting shout and settling back to watch the action when she felt a tap on her shoulder.  She glanced back directly into a chest emblazoned with the bar’s name over one pec.  She had to crane her neck to see the attached head.  By general standards, it had a stupid looking face.  It said: “I think your friend needs to head home.”

Beau weighed her options and went with the best one.  “I think you need to fuck off.”

“Out or I call the police.” His hand snapped to her shoulder.

Beau’s fist snapped to his chin, producing a dull sting that was endlessly satisfying.  He stumbled back and righted himself.  The casual hum of the bar cut to silence.  The man moved in on Beau, as he told the bartender to call the cops.  Beau smiled and excitement surged through her body.  _This_ is what she was looking for.  She readied her fists.  “Come on, shithead.”

But then, behind her, she heard Keyleth ramping up her drunken rant.  “What do you think they’re using your taxes for?  It sure as hell isn’t schools.  Now, let me tell you—”

Beau backed towards Keyleth’s voice, keeping her eye on the man.  “Hey, Key?”

Keyleth snapped away from the mousey woman in an instant.  “Yeah?”

Beau grabbed her hand.  “We’re leaving.”

“Why?  I was just telling this nice—”

“We have to take a walk!”

Beau jerked Keyleth behind her into the cold night air, jackets crumpled in her other hand.  She didn’t stop running until they were blocks away.  Her lungs burned.  Her legs shook.  She felt fantastic.

Slowing down, she pulled Keyleth under an awning in front of a shuttered store and pressed her against the wall, lunging up into Keyleth’s lips, jackets dropping to a heap on the pavement.  Keyleth pulled back instinctively, but then leaned down to meet Beau.  They clutched at each other (Keyleth’s arms draped around Beau’s shoulders—beer bottle still in one hand, Beau’s hands sliding along the narrow curves of Keyleth’s body), Beau working hungrily at Keyleth’s mouth (slick, hot, welcoming).

Finally, Beau pulled away, resting her forehead against Keyleth’s shoulder, her hands below Keyleth’s breasts.  She loved the feel of Keyleth’s ribs and muscles.  She felt so solid, so real.

“Damn.  Let’s do that again.”  And she pulled Keyleth in again, one hand behind her head, exploring with her tongue, sucking at her lips.  Her other hand slid up, cupping Keyleth’s breast, teasing the slight outline of a nipple.

Keyleth broke away, shifting to the side, and putting Beau at arm’s length.  “No.”  She took an unconscious swig from the beer bottle still clutched in her hand and peered at it for a second, wondering where it had come from.  “We’re too drunk.”  Her gaze was cloudy and teetered around Beau’s face, but her voice surfaced into sobriety.

Beau shrugged.  “So what?  It’s fucking great.”

Keyleth shook her head, but leaned in and kissed Beau.  Beau’s hands grasped at Keyleth’s waist, willing her to never let go.  When she finally broke away, Keyleth said, “This is okay, but nothing more.”

Beau forced her hands away from Keyleth and felt the heat of Keyleth’s body drain away into the air.  With it drained the joy that had been surging through Beau.  Instead, that familiar hot lump of anger grew in her lungs.

Keyleth took another sip and passed the bottle to one of Beau’s open hands.  Beau took it (the lingering coolness of the glass taking the last traces of Keyleth) and knocked the rest of the beer back.  She gave the bottle a long look and then flung it as far up the street as she could.  She smiled grimly at the explosion of glass against concrete.

When she looked back, Keyleth was watching her cautiously, her eyes withdrawn behind her red hair, one hand balled into a fist pulled tight against her hip.  Beau swallowed around the lump and choked out the words she knew were necessary.  “Hey, I—I’m sorry.”  She pointed up the street.  “That was stupid.”  Beau knew she should be watching Keyleth’s face, but her eyes stayed riveted on that clenched fist.  “I haven’t really dated, well, fucking ever, if I’m being honest.  Not like, serious ‘dating’ dating.” 

The fist softened and drifted away from the hip and Beau’s eyes flicked up to Keyleth’s face. 

“It’s been a long time for me too.  Dating.  I’m not really—it’s not really something I did.  Not like . . .” She gestured broadly.  “. . . this.  Dinner and . . .”  She laughed at her lack of words.  “. . . this.”  Keyleth. brushed her hair out of her face.  “Do—do you mean ‘serious?’”

“I mean, I thought you were dope as fuck and I wanted to see you again.  That’s pretty fucking serious.”

“I’m pretty new to this, but I think you can want to see someone again and not be serious.”

“Fuck, no, you don’t get it.”  Beau thought for a moment.  “Okay, okay.  Like, I have this one friend.  She’s massive, like just six feet of pure Amazon beauty.  Just muscles and badass, right?  So we started hooking up and it’s just amazing . . .” A little voice in her head told her not to keep going, but it was so muffled and things were so hazy that it barely registered.  “. . . She crushes me so good I can barely breathe.  Like she literally fucks me unconscious one time.  Unconscious.  I can’t believe this is happening to me.  It’s like everything I wanted.

“But then I realize, hey, we’re not hanging out anymore.  Like, she calls me when she’s free and we just fuck.  Anyone else and that would be dope as shit, but I sort of miss doing other things with her, right?  So I ask her what’s going on and she says “It’s one or the other for her.”  She literally can’t fuck and be friends.  So she’s ruining me multiple times a week, but we can’t just be with each other anymore and do friends shit?  It was fucking bullshit.”  Beau rubbed her head.

“Sorry, I thought I was going somewhere with that.”  She stared off up the street. “I just thought you could have both.”

The cold air pricked at their skin, as they stood in the white light of a streetlamp.  Keyleth picked up the jackets from the sidewalk, handing Beau’s to her.  Then she leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.  She gestured up the street with her head.  “Why don’t we go back to my place for a little bit?”

Beau buoyed up, but Keyleth caught the hint quickly.  “Nothing like that, just more time together out of this cold, okay?”  She giggled and swayed slightly.  Her face lit up.  “I bet the greenhouse would be awesome tonight!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Date, Part III: Up High, Down Low

The wind ripped through them as they stepped through the door to the roof.  Beau pulled her jacket tighter and Keyleth pulled her hat down over her ears.  Their teeth were chattering within seconds.  In one hand, Keyleth had a six-pack of beers, fresh from her fridge, in her other she gripped Beau’s hand and pulled her towards the greenhouse.  It loomed in the darkness, a vague outline of reflections from the surrounding city, taking up half of the roof.  With a quick jog, they were at the door and it took only a moment of fumbling for Keyleth to open the latch and the door.  A smack of warm wet air hit them and they stepped into the world of shadows inside.  Keyleth pulled the door close behind them and flipped a switch.

Hanging fluorescent lights flickered to life, casting yellow light and heavy shadows along the front quarter of the greenhouse.  Long rows of leafy greens ran into the darkness, hanging above in small containers were purples and yellows and pinks of blooming pansies.  All around, the walls let in blurry smudges of light from the city, continuing back into the unlighted section of the greenhouse until they became distant stars.

Keyleth dropped the beer on a stool by one of the beds and stripped off her winter garments, dropping them to the floor.  She turned back to Beau, her face aglow, her arms spread wide.  “Welcome to my little paradise!”

Beau’s eyes didn’t leave Keyleth.  “It’s a nice paradise.”

As Beau took off her jacket, Keyleth opened another beer, sipping at it as she moved in and out of the darkness, fingers caressing the green leaves.  She laughed.  “It’s mostly spinach.  In fact, it’s pretty much all spinach.  But you wouldn’t believe what people will pay for organic, locally grown spinach in the winter.”

Beau opened her own beer and sat cross-legged on an empty platform next to the door.  “Shit, you must be rolling in it.”  The world was a haze now (white fuzz at the corners, moving waves in the middle), but it was better like this.  Keyleth looked like she was dancing through a dream.  The way she moved here, among the plants, reminded Beau of the first time she saw her, the music pounding through her muscles.

Keyleth took another drag on the bottle.  “I wouldn’t say rolling in it.  We’re a non-profit.  We try to move as much as possible into the opera-operading-operating costs.”  She stood on her toes and lightly rubbed a browning flower petal between her thumb and pointer finger.  “But it’s a lot better than trying to feed people who need it from what we grow.”  She danced over to Beau.  “Do you have any idea how much bulk food you can buy from the sales of overpriced vegetables?”

“I’m guessing a lot.”

Keyleth nodded and climbed up next to Beau.  “A lot.”

Beau put her beer down and leaned back, resting on her palms, letting her legs spread out until one of her thighs rested against Keyleth, her knee bumping lightly against Keyleth’s knee.  She smiled in the darkness.  It felt good.  It felt solid.

“So this is what you do?”

“Sort of.  Half this block is a garden now.  You should see it when it gets going in the spring.”

“Huh.  Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

They talked more in the quiet of the greenhouse, letting little bits of their lives drip out to the other, their voices made small by the size of the space around them.  It was never anything revelatory, just little details: the fact that Keyleth had taken up boxing a couple years before, or that Beau kept thinking she should keep her hair completely buzzed, or that Keyleth hated pants, or that Beau had a soft spot for country music.  Little details that they each absorbed and held close for what it told them about the other.  Keyleth giggled and hugged Beau close.  Beau grinned a little wider than she usually did.

Then in the middle of a sentence Keyleth set her beer down deliberately and stood up, leaning over slightly.  “I—I think this last beer was a bad idea.”

“Oh shit.” Beau dropped to the ground and rested her hand on Keyleth’s back.  “Um, okay, where can you lay down?”  She glanced around for a bucket.

Keyleth breathed with determination, hands gripping at her thighs.  Then the waves started, a small choke and gag, and then a massive convulsion through her back into a dry heave.  Beau scrambled for Keyleth’s hair, pulling it back in a makeshift ponytail.

Keyleth took another deep breath.  “Oh god.”  And she heaved again, almost bending in half this time.

Beau shifted to hold her hair with one hand and guided her towards the door.  “Where’s your apartment?”

Keyleth groaned.  “Second floor.”

“Okay, well, we’re going to get there, okay?”

Beau swung open the door and the cold wind cut into their jacketless bodies.  Even with the cold, Keyleth couldn’t hurry and they had to stop twice for her to dry heave.  Beau pulled tight against her, trying to warm her even a little while holding her hair.  By the time they reached the door, they were both shuddering from the cold.  The warmth of the building was a welcome reprieve.

The stairs were slow progress.  Beau tried guiding Keyleth, but steps didn’t seem to stay where they belonged and a couple times she almost fell, taking Keyleth with her.  And Keyleth was getting worse, having to stop every few steps (limbs shaky, skin cold with sweat), until, finally, she leaned against a wall by the exit to the third floor and emptied her guts across the gray stone with a choke and a wet slap.  Beau felt the splatter hit her pants, but she just kept her hand steady on Keyleth’s back.

Keyleth tottered back to one of the steps and plopped down.  She held out a hand, eyes glazed, and watched it shake.  “God, I’m so sorry.”

Beau squatted down next to her.  “I don’t care.  Fuck, if you didn’t throw up, I’d be embarrassed because you could outdrink me.”

Keyleth tried to muster a smile.  Her face had gone a yellowish pale.  She let out a sigh.  “I think I should lay down.”  She pulled Beau into a huge hug and Beau had to catch herself before she fell on top of her.  “I’m so sorry.  Really really sorry.  This is so stupid.”

Beau patted her shoulder in what she hoped was a display of support.  “Nah, all cool.  You feeling better?”

The response was a quick shake of the head.

“Do you need to throw up again?”

A quick nod.

They sat there waiting, Keyleth bent over groaning, until the next round came.  Beau held her hair and her hand (a desperate squeeze as the vomit forced its way out).  When it was over, Keyleth seemed better, her sickly smile slightly less sickly, so Beau undid her tie, used it to clean up Keyleth’s face, then helped her to her feet.

“Hey, only one more flight.”

Five minutes later, they were in Keyleth’s apartment.  Keyleth sat on the bed, trying to keep her breathing steady, while Beau grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen.  When she came back, she set the glass on the nightstand and sat next to Keyleth.

“You can try a sip of that in a little bit.  How are you feeling now?”

“I think I’m better.” Her voice quavered.

“Awesome.”  Beau took one of her hands and Keyleth looked up, flushed and blotchy in the face. “Let’s just sit here a little bit and see if you can get the water in you, okay?”

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Fuck, I’ve done worse.  I wouldn’t sweat it.”

Keyleth rested her head on Beau’s shoulder.  “I’m so tired.”  She paused a moment to inhale, her face went queasy.  “Can you stay with me just a little bit before you leave?  I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be—“

“I’m not leaving tonight.  I don’t know if you’re just nauseous or you have fucking alcohol poisoning.  I—I can’t leave you if I don’t know.”

Keyleth patted Beau’s hand.  “That’s sweet.”  Her eyelids were starting to droop.

“Whoa.  Whoa.”  Beau grabbed the water while jostling Keyleth’s head with her shoulder to keep her awake.  “Here,” she said, guiding Keyleth’s hand to the glass, “Drink a sip.  Then you can lay down.”  She helped press the glass to Keyleth’s lips, where she slowly took a sip.  “Now you can lie down.”

Beau slipped out of the way and helped Keyleth settle on the bed, head propped on a pillow, lying on her side.  Without thinking, Beau ran a hand through Keyleth’s hair.  Her eyes closed, a soft smile glimmered briefly on Keyleth’s lips.

“You sleep.  I’m going to sit up a bit over there, okay?” she said, pointing to a chair in the corner.

Keyleth reached out for Beau, fingers fumbling at her leg.  Beau took her hand.

“Lie with me a little bit,” Keyleth murmured, “Please.”

“Yeah, alright,” said Beau, slipping into bed.

Keyleth didn’t roll, but stretched her hand back, grasping for Beau.  Beau took it and rolled over, resting her hand in Keyleth’s hand, her vision filled with the crimson of Keyleth’s hair.  Through the fog in her eyes it looked like fire.

“Thank you,” whispered Keyleth.

Beau didn’t say anything.  She closed her eyes and listened to Keyleth breath, ragged at first, then settling into a slow and steady rhythm as she drifted off to sleep.  Years ago, when she didn’t have a place to live and she doubted she ever would, Beau had taken to focused breathing to take her away from the world, from the cold, from the heat, from the hunger.  Now, here, in a comfortable bed, in a cozy room, the world narrowed to Keyleth’s breathing and the sticky sweaty grip of her hand in Beau’s hand.

Later, after Keyleth’s hand had grown limp with sleep and fallen away and Beau had checked Keyleth for the rise and fall of breathing, Beau carefully reached over Keyleth and turned out the light.  In the darkness (the city lights and blinds painting the room in parallel lines), sharing a bed with a beautiful woman, all Beau could think was “Fuck.  Jester was right.”

_Love is stupid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) If you want to talk about any of this story, the characters, or anything, please leave a comment below or on the main post for this story on [my tumblr.](https://bboiseux.tumblr.com/post/173720303985/slip-and-fall-if-i-take-one-more-step)
> 
> This is part of a Modern AU series called (like this work) [Slip and Fall If I Take One More Step](https://archiveofourown.org/series/978684). If you want to read all of this series, please subscribe at that link. If you like my writing, please consider [subscribing to me!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bboiseux) Just follow either link and click "Subscribe."
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> I am also [bboiseux on tumblr](https://bboiseux.tumblr.com/), where I post WIP and deleted snippets.
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including **short comments, long comments, questions, constructive criticism - focus on descriptions, “ <3” as extra kudos, and reader-reader interaction.** [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
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